


Silver Promises

by juxtapose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:25:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juxtapose/pseuds/juxtapose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin can't find his ring. (Modern AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Promises

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write Modern AU so this was a bit different for me. Enjoy nonetheless! Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, never will

" . . . I can't find it. Oh, God, I can't fucking _find_ it!"

Upon opening the front door, the first thing Arthur Pendragon hears besides the rattling of his keys is an exasperated cry--followed by the _thump, thump, thump_ of various objects hitting the hardwood floor.

Arthur stifles a groan, shutting the door behind him with a quiet _click_. He's had a long day trying a tough case in court, and he has a feeling it's not about to end anytime soon.

He takes a deep breath before daring to call out: "Merlin?"

And sure enough, the living room is filled with lanky limbs and big blue eyes and _Merlin_ as Arthur's boyfriend of almost five years stands in front of him, his face flushed red against the alabaster of his skin. Arthur can picture the scene that must have gone on before his arrival: Merlin charging through every room, tossing aside anything in his path that wasn't what he was looking for. "I can't find it," he repeats for good measure, bringing a hand to the back of his head, and Arthur sighs.

Merlin is, to say the least, a bit of a pack rat. Arthur's gotten used to it over time, but it does leave their apartment a bit of a cluttered mess when neither have time to clean it up amongst their busy work schedules. The place is full of loose odds and ends, mostly Merlin's--from his important sticky-notes to his drawing utensils he uses in his spare time, and everything in between.

And this, combined with Merlin's general absent-mindedness, is why he has an impeccable knack for misplacing anything and everything.

Arthur shakes his head a little and steps forward. "What is it this time?" he replies knowingly, "Your mobile? The copy of the take-away menu? Y'know, I think we have every single combination plate offered at Cheng's Kitchen _memorized_ by this point since letting either of us near a stove yields disastrous results."

"Arthur--"

"--Whatever it was, you probably left it at work, or in your Pile of Unidentifiable Trinkets near the couch," Arthur finishes, eyeing the mound of somethings-or-other beside the sofa a few feet away. He's about to list a number of other possibilities as to where the Missing Item is hiding away, when:

"Arthur, my _ring_!" Merlin wraps his thin arms around himself, peering at Arthur with sad eyes. He goes on, softly now, "I lost my ring."

Arthur's eyes widen, immediately darting to Merlin's left hand in search for the gleam of silver in his long, light whispers-of-fingers--and he doesn't find it. "You lost the ring," he repeats slowly, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Merlin nods. "I noticed it after I finished marking papers, a-and I've been looking for it all over and--"

And Merlin keeps mumbling in scrambled sentences, but Arthur is _tired_ and hungry and would very much like to be curled up in bed beside a calm, warm Merlin who dons a ring on his left hand, and he hasn't the patience for this. Not tonight.

"Merlin, you never take the damn thing _off_!" he finds himself all but shouting, throwing his suitcase to the ground, "How did you manage to lose it?"

"I didn't do it on _purpose_!" Merlin snaps, stepping back and folding his arms.  
.  
Arthur brings a hand to his forehead wearily. "You really are a piece of work. It could be anywhere in this mess of a place--"

"Oh, because you're so _neat and tidy_."

Arthur laughs flatly. "Merlin, you wouldn't know 'neat and tidy' if it slapped you in the face!"

"You know," Merlin mutters, "You could stop being an inconsiderate arse for a second and help me _find_ \--"

" _You_ lost it," Arthur interrupts without feeling, "It's _your_ problem."

Merlin grows quiet, casting his eyes to the ground and biting his lower lip, and Arthur _knows_ that look. Uh-oh.

"Merlin," he says, his voice dropping to a softer tone, "Dammit, don't do that. You know I hate when you--"

"Oh, I'm _sorry_ ," Merlin seethes, moving close so that his face is mere centimeters from Arthur's own, his breath tickling his face. Arthur sees the dreaded tears welling behind his big eyes. "I'm sorry I'm so upset because this means so much to me. If it didn't mean a lot to you, maybe you shouldn't have given it to me in the first place."

"Oh, for God's _sake_ , Merlin--"

"Sod off!" And with that, Merlin storms off down the corridor and disappears into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him so forcefully that it seems the entire flat trembles with it.

And it looks to Arthur that he'll be sleeping on the couch tonight.

He sighs, shuffling over to sink into the sofa, leaning back and letting his eyes fall closed. He tries to relax into the comfort, but instead, he finds himself thinking of the ring.

Its image dances across his mind's eye: a simple little silver thing, not at all extravagant, because Merlin doesn't like showy displays and neither does Arthur (but Arthur would've given every last bit of his savings to buy Merlin the most beautiful ring in the world, if he'd asked). Arthur bought it for Merlin for their three-year anniversary, and since then, Merlin has been physically incapable of taking it off.

Until now, evidently.

You _lost it_ , he recalls shouting, _It's_ your _problem._

He winces at the memory, sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees. He reacted poorly, and he knows that now--but he realized it too late, a mistake Arthur finds himself making time and time again.

Despite the heaviness pressing against his eyelids and the beginnings of what he knows will be a relentlessly throbbing headache, Arthur stands up once again, and says to the silence, "Right. Let's go look for a ring."

And so his expedition begins.

Arthur checks under the couch. On the windowsill where Merlin likes to sit grading assignments. He peers under the kitchen sink, scrutinizes the goldfish bowl ("Are you _sure_ you haven't eaten it, Gandalf?") and even goes so far as to sift through the top layer of the trash bin, all to no avail.

After almost two hours of searching, Arthur collapses into a kitchen chair with a sigh. With the ring nowhere to be found, Arthur thinks he'll have a distressed Merlin on his hands for a long time.

"Shit," he says, letting his head drop onto the table with a _thud_. He's met with a strewn sheet of newspaper, which takes it upon itself to stick to his forehead.

Arthur groans. "Dammit, Merlin, you and your bloody art projects." Sitting up once more, he tears the paper off his face, and that's when he sees it:

Glimmering silver on on the dark brown wood of the table is Merlin's ring. Beside it is what looks like an unfinished drawing--one of himself and Merlin. Black ink on crisp white paper tells a story:

Merlin has his arms wrapped tightly around Arthur's middle, and Arthur has an arm flung around Merlin's shoulders, his nose buried in Merlin's hair, the hint of a smile on his face. Arthur recognizes the scenery, because he remembers the moment--they'd been at the local park about a year ago, and Gwen had snapped the photo before Arthur had time to protest.

Arthur imagines Merlin must miss this--the simplicity. Both their jobs have gotten in the way lately, leaving not much time for either of them to simply _be_ with each other. Merlin must miss him, Arthur thinks, and he realizes how much he misses Merlin, too.

Sheets of newspaper had been hiding all this; this and Merlin's ring.

 _He didn't want it to get dirty_ , Arthur concludes, shaking his head, _so he took it off_.

Arthur gazes down at the picture again, his headache seeming to dissolve away as he studies the faces smiling up at him. He wants to become those happy people again, with the person he loves more than anything.

"Idiot," he mutters fondly before picking up the ring and holding it up to the light. It's a bit scratched from wear, but the message carved inside is still as clear as ever, a promise Arthur never, ever wants to break. The inscription reads, very simply:

 _Always._

* * *

Arthur slips into the bedroom to find Merlin curled up on his side of the mattress, seemingly asleep. Upon moving closer, Arthur sees the shimmering tears on his face reflecting the moonlight streaming in from the nearby window.

Arthur really does hate it when Merlin cries--rather, he hates the twisting and knotting in the pit of his stomach that occurs whenever he does. After removing his shoes as quietly as possible, Arthur moves under the covers, reaching below the layers of white to find the warmth of Merlin's hand.

In one swift motion, he slips the ring on Merlin's finger, and smiles slowly when Merlin takes in a deep breath as his eyes flutter open. Merlin blinks up at Arthur for a moment in confusion before his eyes widen in realization, and Arthur almost laughs as he watches his lover peer down at the ring on his finger, then back up at Arthur again.

"You _found_ it?" he cries, his voice beautiful and laced with sleep, "Where?"

Arthur chuckles. "The drawing is coming along nicely," he says, and Merlin gasps and slaps a hand to his forehead.

"Shit! That was a surprise! For your birthday coming up; I didn't want you to see . . . " he trails off, and even in the darkness Arthur sees the of a blush on his cheeks.

"Well, you did a good job hiding it. So good a job that you forgot about it yourself, apparently."

"It's not finished--" Merlin starts, but Arthur cuts him off:

"It's amazing," he says, not oblivious to the way Merlin's eyes light up in response, "And . . . " He takes a deep breath (he's never been much good at this): "I'm . . . I'm sorry. Not just for tonight. But for not . . . for not treating you how you deserve. I miss _us_ , Merlin."

He can barely finish the last of his sentence before Merlin throws his arms around him, and Arthur feels Merlin's hands all but grasping at the fabric of his shirt. "God, Arthur, me too. I-I overreacted, I know. But lately it's felt like that ring is the closest connection I have with you, and when I thought it was gone, I . . . God, I--"

Arthur once more interrupts Merlin, this time with a kiss. The beautiful familiarity of Merlin's lips fills Arthur with the buzzing, tingling sensation of home.

"You won't ever lose me," Arthur promises when they pull apart, "Ever."

In the stillness of the night and the rustling of the sheets, Merlin whispers, "I love you," and his words brush against Arthur gently like a breeze, a familiar song, making him shiver.

"I love you too," Arthur says into the soft skin of Merlin's neck, "Always."

He leans forward, gently pressing Merlin into the bed, letting his hands map the slips and curves of Merlin, savoring every touch. And he thinks, this is perfect, this is everything.

This is _always_.


End file.
